


A study in attraction and loose thoughts

by Sword_Eye



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Public Sex, ben mitchell getting shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23743051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sword_Eye/pseuds/Sword_Eye
Summary: Ben had been aware Callum was attractive from the beginning obviously; he was half deaf not half blind.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 14
Kudos: 128





	A study in attraction and loose thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Canon compliant and largely directly derived from canon. I would suggest a watch/rewatch of scenes from: 12.04.19, 31.05.19, 06.06.19, 20.08.19, 22.08.19, 06.09.19, 27.09.19, particularly if you are unfamiliar with or haven’t watched these scenes in a while.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Ben had been aware Callum was attractive from the beginning _obviously_ ; he was half deaf not half blind.

“Alright love, what can I get ya?”

Ben had tilted his head in curious annoyance at the sound of such an unnecessarily loud, obnoxiously cheery and mildly interesting voice. And it was only mildly interesting due to the fact that Ben didn’t immediately recognise it.

Since his return he had heard about the new resident and part-time bartender at the Vic of course. It was just one of those things you learned after you’d been away for a while via unfortunately overhearing, or even more unfortunately being involved in, vapid, gossipy conversations. 

“Some old mate of the Carters has moved into the Vic, brother’s meant to be a right psycho”

“Maggie and Simon got a divorce, she’s keeping the kids”

“Old Mrs. Johnson down the street finally kicked the bucket, left it all to some toy boy no one knew about, the grandkids are taking him to court.”

The usual.

With only a pint for company while he waited for Phil to show up he’d been half hoping for some distraction from his current brooding and plotting, so he magnanimously decided to deign this newcomer a moment of his attention.

The guy was tall, dark and handsome alright. 

Ben has a bit of a thing for tall guys. And yes he’s aware it isn’t too hard to find someone taller than him, thanks very much. And he’ll have you know, his vertical challenges therefore work to his advantage considering this preference. But proper tall guys; like that one grinning at everyone and everything from behind the bar, proper tall guys got him going.

He loved the feeling of someone so much bigger than him against him; completely surrounding him, engulfing him. It was intoxicating and thrilling to become immersed when another man could overwhelm him physically. 

And fuck, it was just sexy.

His hair was dark and sweeping, which contrasted quite nicely with his pale skin and he had a bit of stubble going on, which was certainly interesting. And certainly likely to leave a burn in interesting places. 

If Ben was pressed he would possibly and begrudgingly admit that he also had a gorgeous smile, which was ridiculously wide and given far too freely.

His voice was nice too but that’s the last Ben will say about it. 

He was no super model or anything, with slightly sticky out ears and a distinctly nice-guy, almost goofy vibe. But he was hot, this mate of the Carters.

If Ben was in the mood to be honest with himself, something which wasn’t occurring regularly at the time, he’d also possibly admit he probably had a thing for nice-guy types too.

Throughout his long, seemingly never ending stream of hookups, he purposefully avoided anyone who could be easily recognised as someone who might enjoy discussing their childhoods with strangers, watching countdown or taking long walks on the beach. However, every now and again one or two slipped through the cracks.

Ben’s only human for God’s sake, even his soft-boy radar has an off day.

And whenever someone smiles at him a little too sincerely, or kisses him a little too softly or holds him a little too tightly after two rounds of mind blowing sex, well, instead of being turned off Ben tends to melt. 

Which may or may not be why he avoids sensitive types like the plague. And treats every one of them like dirt the next morning; can’t have them coming back, right?

So Ben acknowledged it; Callum’s objective attractiveness that is. And didn’t dwell on it for any longer than the brief moment he deemed him worthy of his consideration.

Sure, he wasn’t going to complain about a bit of eye candy among the dismal display the Vic had to offer but it wasn’t going to keep him up for fun times at night. 

Straight men didn’t do it for him you see. 

He knew there was plenty out there who got off on going after straight guys but he’d never get it. Claim it a preference of masculinity or enjoying a challenge; either way it all sounded pathetic to Ben.

He liked sex as much as, if not more than, the next gay man. Fundamentally however, sex with someone who actually wanted it, and only slightly less importantly, who knew what they were doing. He didn’t have time to be convincing some hetero to jump into bed with him, never mind teaching them about the birds and the bees when they got there. No thank you.

And as far as Ben knew this mate of the Carters was shacked up with Whitney Dean of all people, was a bit old to still be in the closet and wasn’t giving out any obvious non-straight vibes.

Alright, alright sometimes his gaydar has an off day too apparently. Nobody is perfect!

And besides he was distracted by the bustling entrance of Phil not seconds later and then there were a few more things to worry about than Albert Square’s latest stray.

-

A day or two later they were formally introduced and Ben gave him his second thought.

“Ben Mitchell”

Ben had his best asshole smirk on and his hand outstretched.

“Callum Highway”, tall, pretty boy replied easily, with a genuine smile.

They touched for the first time then. A solid, firm handshake. 

And Holy fuck his hands were massive. Has Ben mentioned his penchant for guys being bigger than him?

Ben had no idea if tall, pretty boy who was apparently named Callum had felt anything, but he was sure there was a jolt right then. A small, but very real, whisper of electricity that passed between them.

Attraction.

Their eyes met and all Ben could think about for a half second was _blue._ Clear, pale, sparkling blue.

Then Ben laughed unkindly, eyes sliding to Whitney perched like a possessive peahen by his side.

If _Callum_ was shacking up with the likes of her, then, despite his looks, poor taste would be a greater issue than gender preference.

Not that Ben cared or would be in any way interested either way.

“Two pints of lager when you’re ready mate”, Ben addressed him again; composed and dismissive.

Callum glanced away, seemingly taken aback by and slightly uncomfortable with Ben’s rudeness. But he made no comment, smiled and got to work.

Non-combative, tolerant, easy-going. 

Probably a bit of a doormat Ben added more sternly.

And then Ben refocussed on the task at hand; Lola, Jay, and the plans the horny idiots were ruining. 

He didn’t have time to be considering Callum Highway and his big, sexy hands any further. The guy was clearly a wet-blanket and not worth a third thought.

-

Did the fact that Callum was sex on particularly long legs have anything to do with Ben getting him mixed up in a stolen van deal gone wrong? Who knows.

It all seemed like coincidence and Ben would surely argue that it most definitely fucking was. And he wouldn’t be taking kindly to any implications he’d done any running about after anyone, thanks.

But still, you should probably never fully discount the influence of the universe and laws of mutual attraction.

And Ben was about to learn that the attraction he unfortunately, undeniably felt was slightly more mutual than he’d dared allow himself entertain.

Callum was well pissed and it was around this time Ben also learned Callum was a bit less of a doormat than he’d previously given him credit for. Given the right stimuli he was actually quite fiery. 

Which Ben found moderately amusing.

He supposed that was why he couldn’t help himself. He just had to keep pushing, pressing more buttons, seeking a bigger reaction.

“Oh no”, Ben practically growled, when Callum began to turn away from him.

His shoulders were slumping in defeat and he looked increasingly dejected, some of the raw anger evaporating into tired acceptance.

Couldn’t have that could we? Ben was still being entertained by the little outburst.

“You’re not gonna open a vein, are ya?”

Suddenly he was pressed against the door, a big hand fisted in his collar and a big Callum pressed all along his front. Ben was grinning cruelly, thoroughly amused by that development.

They were incredibly close and sharing panting breaths between one another.

And then Ben felt it.

Callum was far too much of a good boy to be carrying around a gun in his pocket so Ben took the suspicious nudging against his hip to mean that, despite some evidence to the contrary, someone was happy to see him. Very happy indeed.

Holy fuck.

And here Ben thought the most surprising thing he’d learn about Callum that day was that the man apparently _did_ have some sort of spine.

Ben couldn’t even hide his surprise. He froze; wide eyed and slack jawed. He supposed he owed Callum even _more_ credit; it took a fair bit to stun Ben Mitchell into silence.

Callum seemed equally shocked. His breath stuttered as he glanced downwards between them; down towards where he was as hard as Blackpool rock candy against Ben.

He didn’t move away however. Ben found that quite interesting.

Following a few extended moments of shock-induced brain failure the old cogs began whirring even faster than before. If Ben had been vaguely amused previously, he was positively ecstatic then.

He took a few deep inhalations.

“I smell queer”, he breathed, verging on manic.

Callum was quick to recoil at that alright. And Ben was laughing again. What a completely hilarious turn of events.

What followed was more disappointing.

All the usual denials and protests were truly ear-splitting, and not at all convincing. 

A closet-case. How draining.

He had received a decent punch to the face though, which had been slightly exhilarating he supposed. It also further established that when given the right encouragement Callum could be more interesting than expected, and that Ben quite enjoyed providing such encouragement. But that was it really.

Maybe somewhere in him he felt some sense of empathy for Callum. Understood the confusion he was clearly experiencing, and the conflicting emotions. Recognised the place he was in, the self doubt, the self hatred. But Ben didn’t see much sense in dwelling on any of that, dismissing such sentimentality easily.

Callum Highway attracted to men however. Now there was a thought.

-

That very same evening, for no particular reason he was willing to consider, Ben found himself scrolling listlessly through pornhub with a persistent erection which he’d been unable to ignore any longer.

Ben had never been overly interested in porn.

It might have something to do with his repeated, dismal attempts at forcing himself to enjoy straight porn when he was younger. Or maybe one PTSD inducing incident involving Phil, a broken door lock and a sock. But the less said about that the better.

Even when he had eventually, _thankfully_ , discovered gay porn he hadn’t become obsessed like many boys his age seemed to and as the years went on his interest had only further waned. 

Sure porn was instrumental in his education on the inner workings of gay sex, but he’d learned pretty quickly to take most of what happened in porn with a pinch, or a splash if you will, of salt. And he supposed that was the main downside really; it just wasn’t real. And Ben found it difficult to disengage with the fact that it was all fake and get properly into it.

Not that he hated porn, or didn’t indulge in and enjoy it semi-regularly. There was no arguing that it was definitely better than nothing. He just much, _much_ preferred the real thing.

And Ben wasn’t short of the real thing for anyone asking. 

He might not be the best looking bloke anyone’s ever seen but he knew he wasn’t bad. And what he lacked in looks and height he more than made up for in swagger, overconfidence and wit. He had a cocky mouth on him, and it was good for more than just one-liners and snarky put downs.

He wasn’t lacking in hookups, be it on apps or in bars, and therefore his occasional aversion to porn wasn’t typically an issue.

So why was he apathetically scrolling rather than finding a warm, willing body or two? Something else he wasn’t willing to consider one could suppose.

He settled on a video of two guys. 

There was a simple enough setup; the two of them were sprawled across a bed kissing each other, no preamble or cringy format. One of the guys was a little taller than the other, and he had the shorter man pressed into the mattress, covering his body with his own.

Ben took his cock in his hand and began stroking; when he had finally found something just marginally able to retain his interest he was keen to get on with procedings and, frankly, get it over with.

His heart rate was increasing at a similar rate to his hand speed and his breathing was becoming heavier by the second. He had his other hand on his chest, fingers scratching and grazing idly.

He’d started to get quite into it after a few minutes, enjoying the way the two hot men on his screen were pleasuring one another. He slid his eyes shut for, what was meant to be, just a few moments and imagined himself in the position of one of the men; spread out on the mattress, with a hot guy molded onto him, feeling him up and playing with his cock.

Ben’s traitourous mind then decided to cast Callum fucking Highway in the leading role of hot guy in that particular production of Ben’s pornographic fantasy.

Ben’s breathing hitched.

Once he’d thought about him he couldn’t help but picture Callum on top of him, looming over him, as Ben lay sprawled beneath him. In Ben’s mind it was suddenly Callum’s large, powerful hand wrapped around Ben’s hard and abruptly leaking cock.

And Callum had promptly increased the pressure, tightening his fist deliciously and was pulling faster and twisting further.

And he could almost feel Callum pressing him into the mattress with his long, gorgeous body. Could smell the salty, manly scent of Callum’s sweat dripping and was desperate to taste it. Could see Callum’s own cock, hard and flushed between thick thighs; wanting Ben just as much. 

Oh God, Callum definitely had a massive cock. You know what they say about big hands? _Don’t you?_

Callum had then decided to trail his other hand down Ben’s chest, his stomach, his balls. And he’d finally rested a finger against the rim of Ben’s hole, pressing tortuously lightly, teasing.

Ben’s ears were rushing and his jaw was clenched tightly. 

The fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock moved impossibly quicker. And the finger pressed against his opening began to push and circle.

Ben gulped back a helpless groan and reluctantly changed tact; he unfortunately couldn’t afford to be too loud.

The hand beneath him moved to his nipple instead. Pinching and rolling and tweaking the already hardened nub with practiced ease. It felt overwhelmingly good.

He thought about Callum’s face, his gorgeous, stupid face.

Everything became static.

Ben painted white stripes up his own chest as his aching cock pulsated in his tight fist. The release was euphoric. He saw stars and crackling light beneath his eyelids which were screwed almost painfully shut. His nipple felt oversensitive and raw, though he continued to pinch and rub it as he propelled himself through his orgasm; the combination of stimulations had felt disconcerting and incredible.

When he was finally fully spent, and his cock had begun to feel a little tender he released himself and allowed his head to drop into his pillow. He opened his eyes and had to wait for them to adjust for quite an unreasonable amount of time before he could stare at his ceiling.

When the white noise subsided the only sounds in the room were his own harsh, laboured breaths, the thrumming pulse in his ears and the exaggerated moans of the forgotten men on his laptop screen. He glanced across his bed to see the two of them fucking.

Oh God, he really fancied Callum Highway.

“For fuck’s sake”, he stated flatly and to no one.

If Ben had had any sense of morality he wouldn’t have allowed another thought of Callum to cross his mind.

As it was that wasn’t likely to mean much.

-

Days of aggravation, provocation, back-tracking and more provocation culminated in a late night rendezvous in a local children’s park.

Peak gay culture was alive and well.

Par for the course their initial conversation was laden with allusions to violence. But that quickly devolved to deeper discussion of past traumas, intimate fears and things Ben was sure Callum had never admitted to himself, never mind anyone else before. 

And despite, or perhaps because of it all, the air was stifling with electric tension and sizzling attraction.

“I’m so tired of feeling lonely”, Callum confided, through shaking breaths and unshed tears.

And there it was. His soft-boy complex rearing it’s head. Such displays of vulnerability and subjective weakness should deter Ben for everyone’s good, but it only made him want Callum impossibly more. 

He saw so much of himself in Callum in that moment. He watched as Callum turned away and avoided Ben’s gaze, as he shook his head and gulped back tears. And he felt all of his uncertainty and pain and weariness.

Ben reached out.

It was a whisper of a touch really, against his gorgeous face. And Callum was finally looking him in the eye again. He was free to do what he wanted; move away or move closer. Either way Ben was there, if he wanted him. But he wasn’t going to initiate anything, Callum was going to have to figure that bit out on his own.

Callum stepped closer. And closer. He leant towards Ben. And Ben tilted his head back.

They kissed and it was heat and sparks.

A simple, achingly slow press of lips together.

When they both pulled away they observed one another. Ben wondered briefly if Callum could see him the way Ben felt he could truly see Callum for the first time just then. If he’s being honest, which he wasn’t often at a wont to do, he was pretty sure Callum had been able to see straight through Ben for a while.

Did he know how badly Ben wanted him?

They kissed again and it was fire. Burning and exploding brightness.

Ben slid one hand into Callum’s ridiculous, sweepy hair, gripping tightly and angling their mouths together gloriously. Callum had one arm wound around Ben’s waist and the other at his neck as he pushed and pulled the two of them impossibly closer. 

Ben bit at his lips, and then gasped as Callum licked straight into his mouth.

They were practically plastered against one another and Ben groaned into Callum’s mouth as he pushed his own erection against the other man’s thigh shamelessly. He would probably feel a bit more embarrassment at his obvious wantonness if he had any brain power left to do so, and if Callum wasn’t equally as hard and grinding himself unabashedly against Ben’s hip. 

From the way Callum began grappling with the buttons of Ben’s shirt, Ben inferred he was keen for there to be a bit more skin involved in proceedings. Ben could only concur.

Despite his agreement with Callum’s groans of protest when Ben pulled out of Callum’s grip, he persevered. He grabbed Callum’s forearm and with a glance behind himself, dragged him backwards towards a small shelter in the park.

During the quick change in location Ben offered Callum a cheeky grin and was pleased to see Callum laugh in return, before he bit his own lip and dragged his eyes up and down Ben’s body. 

Ben could relate; right then Callum looked like walking sex. His lips were kissed and bitten red, his pupils were blown wide and his hair was a dishevelled mess. His clothes, which hugged every plain of his body might he add, were rumpled and there was an impressive strain against the crotch of his jeans that had had Ben practically salivating.

There was a bench in the shelter but it was keenly ignored as Callum bracketed Ben against the nearest wall. Ben’s breath stuttered at the feeling of Callum surrounding him almost completely.

Callum pulled away from where he’d been pressing open mouthed kisses against Ben’s neck. His hands continued to fumblingly open the buttons of Ben’s shirt.

“This ok?”, Callum whispered, his voice sounded completely wrecked; rough and half-choked.

Ben gulped and nodded breathlessly.

Apparently Ben’s incoherent state then turned Callum into a cocky bastard. He offered a smug smirk and his fingers became surer in their mission to rid Ben of his clothes.

Ben bit back a moan as Callum finally got beneath his shirt. With large, strong hands he stroked along Ben’s sides, his chest and his collarbones. His head fell back against the brick wall.

Ben couldn’t have that could he? There was only room for one arrogant prick in that children’s play shelter.

He took a steadying breath and, with a little more composure, made comparatively quick work of Callum’s shirt; to be fair he’d had comparatively more practice. 

Ben began trailing lingering kisses along Callum’s jaw, descending along his neck, and, once exposed, his strong, solid sweat-dampened chest. He sucked and nipped hard enough to illicit a few hisses from Callum, but lightly enough not to leave marks. He used one hand to rove along the firm, muscular expanses of the other man’s stomach, sides and back.

If things were a bit less frantic, or there was a little more light, or again, if Ben had any spare brain power, he’d likely have spent significantly more time groping and leering at what was, despite the lack of light, _clearly_ an offensively well-defined and sexy body.

As it was, Ben was far too preoccupied.

His other hand slid lower, to where Callum was grinding his straining crotch against Ben. He palmed his erection through his, at that point, sinfully tight jeans and Callum’s open-mouthed panting became a guttural groan. 

He’d had one hand in an increasingly firm vice grip of Ben’s bare side and his other forearm against the wall beside Ben’s head, bracketing him in. Callum’s own forehead was then buried in the junction between Ben’s neck and shoulder. He pushed into Ben’s touch, pressing the two of them impossibly closer, engulfing him unimaginably more.

Ben smirked, pausing his oral ministrations against Callum’s chest. He tilted his head, nudging at the side of the other man’s face until he turned also, and their eyes met.

“This ok?”, Ben mimicked.

The smug, teasing effect was mostly ruined due to how hoarse Ben sounded and the hitch in his breath, but Callum still laughed so it was fine.

“Fuck you”

Ben raised an eyebrow, smirk intensifying. Now there was something to think about.

Callum simply stuttered another broken laugh, rolling his eyes. And as Ben offered a particularly forceful _squeeze_ in retaliation he buried his face in Ben’s shoulder again with a moan.

Ben’s fingers trailed up the _extremely_ stressed zip to the button of Callum’s jeans. He paused.

For all his cocky bravado and teasing Ben actually did need to know if Callum wanted _that_. That bit that logically came next. Ben touching him. Taking him in his hand, properly acquainting himself with the hardness that’d been pressed against him for what felt like an age, feeling the undeniable evidence that Callum was just as attracted to him as he was to Callum, in that moment at least.

Ben gulped just thinking about it.

Callum made the decision for him without Ben having to voice any of _that_ , thank God.

He’d seemingly become impatient with Ben’s momentary hesitation, or perhaps he was becoming concerned that his zip might actually burst; in Ben’s opinion that seemed a more genuine possibility with every passing second. Either way he shoved a hand between them to slip open his own button and slide down the zip.

The relieved sigh Callum exhaled was enough to cause a snort of laughter from Ben.

Full steam ahead it was then. Ben stopped thinking. Here he was with a hot bloke practically molded onto him and he was getting lost in his own head like some sentimental tween giving his first hand job. Get with the fucking program mate.

He unceremoniously shoved Callum’s jeans and boxers down his thighs and took his cock in hand. 

“Oh my God”, Callum whimpered.

“Ben’s fine thanks”, Ben murmured distractedly.

“Ben”, he groaned.

He was vaguely aware of Callum’s words and moans of appreciation. He sensed him throw his head back before settling closer again, pressing kisses along the side of Ben’s face, nibbling his ear, licking stripes down his neck. And felt him fist one hand in Ben’s hair as he slid the other downwards along his stomach, getting wonderfully and torturously lower and _lower_.

But the sight of Callum pulsing and throbbing in his hand, even in the dimness, was honestly quite the preoccupation.

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised Callum’s cock was in proportion with the rest of him; and he wasn’t really, he’d just been trying not to think about it. Alright, apart from that one time! Jesus. As it was Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever think about anything else again.

Callum’s cock was tantalisingly thick and gloriously long. His veins were protruded and his head prominent and mouth-wateringly flushed. He was leaking precum that trickled deliciously along his shaft.

Ben fleetingly entertained a few half-baked notions of dropping to his knees then and there. But he quickly and reluctantly decided against it; he didn’t want to up the intensity even more during Callum’s first rodeo and risk a freak out. Though he was extremely tempted.

He was bloody gorgeous.

“You’re bloody gorgeous”

“You too - I- ah God-”, Callum began before choking off with a groan.

Ben had begun stroking him in earnest. 

He gripped him tightly, quickly learning from a series of hisses, moans and Callum’s inclination to thrust into his hand what was a little too tight, and what was just right. He was also quickly learning that Callum was fascinatingly responsive. 

He wanked him quickly, twisting slightly as he neared the end of Callum’s impressive length and sweeping his thumb over his weeping slit every so often.

Ben moved confidently, finally feeling off of the back foot again. This he could do; he knew how to make men feel good, and was learning what made _Callum_ feel good with a studious level of attentiveness.

Then Callum touched him.

Ben’s composed movements stuttered, then paused, before returning to a much more uneven, stilted pace.

“Fuck”, Ben muttered, breath hitching.

Callum had eased his descending hand decidedly onto Ben’s own, regretfully and painfully jean-clad, erection. 

Ben’s eyes flickered to Callum, who was already watching him in return.

He looked a little unsure but determined. And who was Ben to question a boy scout like Callum on a mission?

Callum’s hand was unsteady and clumsy as he opened Ben’s button and zip. Ben was _almost_ thankful for the decreased momentum as it allowed him a brief reprieve to give an attempt at controlling his near hyperventilation. Almost. 

The respite Ben felt at the release of his achingly hard cock from the confines of his clothes was magnificent and heady. He gazed with hooded, half-glazed eyes as Callum slowly took him in his large palm and wrapped his long fingers around his shaft.

Ben whimpered.

“Ben - I- I don’t..”, Callum whispered haltingly. He sounded unsure and slightly distressed.

“It’s ok”, Ben hushed. “You’re making me feel amazing. Just do what you do for yourself, what makes you feel good”

Callum smiled at him then. Not a cocky smirk or a sultry simper that he’d grown used to seeing during such encounters, but a real, genuine smile.

Ben had to look away.

He placed his own hand over Callum’s around his cock. The sight of it was mesmerising. His painful hardness and desperation for release spurred him into action however, otherwise Ben’s sure he could’ve stared at that image all night.

He guided Callum’s movements carefully. Ben pressed against the other man’s fingers until they reached a tight grip that felt unbelievably good. He slowed his own motions along Callum’s cock slightly and directed him to stroke Ben’s cock at a similar speed.

Once Callum began to move more independently, taking more control of the movement and pressure than Ben, he let go. The two of them gradually picked up speed again, following and mirroring one another until Ben wasn’t sure who was setting the pace anymore.

Their foreheads were pressed together, panting breaths mingled. They watched each other avidly. Ben absorbed every emotion flickering across Callum’s face; surprise, excitement, unadulterated lust. He devoured every hitched breath, every choked moan, every time he squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure only to snap them open seconds later to continue watching Ben.

They were literally two half-acquaintances, wanking eachother off in public. In a fucking public children’s park. That was grounds for a coveted spot on the pedo register for fuck’s sake! And here they were staring into each other's eyes as if- as if they were- as if it was-

Callum grazed one strong thumb over Ben’s nipple.

“ _Callum_ ”, Ben whined, eyes squeezed closed and all conscious thought leaving his mind.

Apparently inspired by this reaction Callum proceeded to pinch and roll his hard nipple more purposefully between his thumb and forefinger. Ben melted. 

Fuck. That was not the time for Callum to discover that particular weakness.

Ben flicked his wrist in a particularly sharp twist and upped the pace.

“Jesus Christ Ben”, Callum practically sobbed.

From then it was fervered and frantic.

They thrust and grinded into each other with increasing abandon and decreasing coordination. Their hands seemed everywhere at once and still Ben couldn’t feel enough of Callum and didn’t have enough of Callum feeling him. He was completely intoxicated and nowhere near sufficiently consumed.

“Oh God, I’m gonna-”

Ben captured Callum’s lips in a searing kiss before he could finish speaking.

He swallowed Callum’s groans and stroked him harder and faster as he pulsed and shuddered and came apart in Ben’s palm.

When he felt the warm splashes of Callum’s cum against the back of his hand he couldn’t help but glance down between them. 

The sight was heavenly and sinful. He thought about how much he wanted to taste it as he fell over the edge right behind Callum.

-

An attempted bottling via Callum’s father, successful kidnapping via his brother, a few months decidedly lacking in anymore sex between them and there he and Callum were, sharing a pint in the Vic like a regular pair of bossom buddies.

And the wedding was still on. 

Which was all fine. Totally fine. Great even. No issues here. No thank you.

He’d just unloaded a hefty pile of personal problems onto Callum who was then telling him he’d done the right thing and that everything was going to be alright. Which made a pleasant change from everyone else telling him he’d done the wrong thing and that everything was fucked.

It was the kind of lies a wet-blanket like Callum _would_ pedal and what Ben had wanted to hear at the time. Which was obviously the only reason he’d even told Callum everything that had been going on. And about the stress and pressure he’d felt and his uncertainty about what to do next and his deep-seeded, existential dread.

Yes. That was the reason.

And it wasn’t like he’d had anyone else to vent to, what with everyone else who hadn’t been inconveniently missing giving him the hump; namely his dad, Jay, Lola. Callum was comparatively far too nice to turn anyone away.

Another plausible reason, sure.

He’d just needed to get things off his chest, to talk everything through with another actual human being who didn’t currently hate him, an outlet. That was why he felt so much better afterwards; reassured and hopeful, still worried but more able to face it all. It had nothing to do with _Callum_ ; could’ve been anyone really.

Has he convinced you yet?

“It ain’t easy telling the truth”, Callum had said, smiling a little sadly.

“No”, he agreed.

Ben looked away from the bartop and into Callum’s irritatingly attractive eyes.

He was praising Ben for having come clean with Phil about his plots, but whenever their eyes met Ben wasn’t thinking about his dad and he wasn’t sure if Callum truly was either.

Ben was thinking about Callum’s truth, the truth he found so difficult to tell. So difficult in fact he was willing to legally bind himself to a life of lies, misery and awful sex. 

He was also thinking about Callum’s lips and how inviting they looked, how they felt against his own and the way the vein at the side of his neck seemed more prominent that day and how he’d like to sink his teeth into it.

He then thought about what their truth could be. About Callum lifting him by his thighs and bending him over the bar and-

“Anyways..”, Ben huffed, glancing back to the bartop.

The two of them made semi-awkward excuses to leave, lightly seasoned with uncomfortable laughter.

“If Whit finds out I’ve collected the wedding rings she’ll ‘ave us takin’ ‘em on and off all night”, Callum joked, for some terrible, unknown reason which was beyond Ben.

If Ben _had_ been fighting off an erection. Which he definitely had not been so fuck off. Then he might’ve found that to be no longer an issue. Mostly because he felt like someone had just poured a bucket of ice cold water over his head.

They exchanged a few more stilted pleasantries while Ben felt his mind disconnect and drift. Drift somewhere better than this shit he’d hoped; thankfully he wasn’t sure there was anywhere worse.

Then Callum left.

  
A day or there-abouts earlier he’d flirted shamelessly with Callum, while the other man practically simpered. They were at the funeral parlour before the pair of them had headed off on a fool’s errand. If you’d have squinted and had some sort of mental instability you might’ve mistaken them for Thelma and Louise as they’d galavanted around Peckham.

During Callum’s characteristically altruistic offer to help Ben on the hunt for an inconveniently misplaced sister; hence the fool’s errand, Callum had alluded to his own accomodating and agreeable nature:

”I just say yes to everything”

“I remember”, Ben had alluded to that time they’d jacked eachother off in a park in return.

Callum had glanced away quickly. But the twitch of his lips and crinkling around his eyes had been positively coy. And when he looked back at Ben his eyes were definitely sparkling with something positive; Surprise? Mirth? Desire?

And oh fuck did Ben _remember_ all right.

Remembered the compelling press of Callum’s body all along his own, and the salty taste of his sweat slicked chest, and the way he’d felt when Callum had gazed at him as if he was beautiful and wonderful and precious. 

He was harsh in his expulsion and avoidance of such sickening sentimentality. But no one could truly control the thoughts that pervaded that hazy, lost world between oblivion and wakefulness you dither in when falling asleep or waking up.

And he remembered it all then in the Vic. And, to Ben’s extreme aggravation, almost every time he’d laid eyes on Callum since it had happened. Sometimes it was easier to halt the thoughts and their natural progression to fantasy than others; on that occasion he’d blamed sleep-deprivation, the existential dread and that vein on the side of Callum’s neck for the near slip.

Back in the Vic Ben stared into his pint. Thought about drowning himself in it. 

-

He was laying in Callum’s arms. It felt nice.

Callum was stroking his hair and holding his face and speaking to him softly, gently.

That was the problem with Callum wasn’t it? He was too soft, too gentle. Or was that why he wasn’t a problem? Why Ben was the problem, and always had been, and always would be. Ben couldn’t remember.

He’d thought about laying in Callum’s arms before, he could admit that to himself in that moment for some reason. Had thought about what it would be like to rest himself on top of Callum, to pillow his head on the other man’s solid chest and have his strong arms wrapped around him, holding him securely. Had thought about how it would feel to have Callum blanketing him, the other man dosing on his shoulder and their legs intertwined tightly, anchoring them together. 

But Callum would never want that, not with Ben anyway. Callum could have anyone he wanted; man or woman, because he was beautiful, kind and good. So fucking _good_. 

And Ben wasn’t any of those things. He wanted, needed, _deserved_ better than Ben.

Though he _was_ in Callum’s arms right then. So maybe it had all worked out. Maybe Ben _could_ have that, have Callum.

Except he’d always thought curling up in Callum’s arms, resting his head on the other man’s stomach and allowing their fingers to tangle together would feel painfully right.

And there was something desperately wrong. Ben knew that for sure, but he’d forgotten. Forgetting felt nice too.

No.

He couldn’t forget. He had to remember. What was it?

Lexi, fuck. He needed to see her, hold her close, tell her he was sorry and that he loved her and that he would never leave her willingly. Why? Why did he need to do that?

What was happening?

And Louise. She was here or close, but she was scared and in danger. Was she? Where was she? He needed to find her, protect her. From what again?

What the fuck was happening?

Phil was there as well. _Daddy lion_. That was funny.

His head was swimming and he couldn’t see anything; he was trying to open his eyes but all he could see was brightness and stars, and he wasn’t sure if they were open at all. All his movements felt slow and uncoordinated, like his brain and body were disconnected.

“Ben”

The voice sounded very far away and as though it were speaking from underwater.

“Ben”, louder, clearer.

Callum.

Oh yeah, Callum was there. Callum was holding him. It felt nice.

He tried to move so he could hear better but that hurt. His whole body hurt he suddenly realised. How could he have forgotten that?

He’d forgotten something else but he couldn’t remember what it was. 

All the pain was radiating from his chest, right throughout his body, to his fingertips and his toes. His lungs were burning and he couldn’t breath.

It was excruciating.

He wanted to cry out, to scream, to beg for it to stop. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t _breath_. Everything was becoming hazy and dim.

Lexi. 

Oh fuck, his little girl. His baby. He needed to tell her something. What was it?

_The end._

The end of what?

_The end of the story._

What?

_This is it._

Lexi. His mum. Jay. Lola. His dad. Louise. Bobby. Dennis. Ian. Callum.

Callum was talking.

“It’s gonna be ok”

No it isn’t Callum, this is the end.

“Sonia’s gonna help you”, his voice sounded rough and shaky. “She just needs me to move you a bit and then she can do what she needs to”

Moving was agonising torture. And then he wasn’t in Callum’s arms anymore.

“She’s going to help you now Ben”, Callum sounded like he was crying. “And then you’re gonna be alright.”

That all sounded like a lot of effort to Ben. And Ben was very tired. 

“It’s going to be ok Ben”

Of course it is Dad, because this is the end.

“And you’ll stay with me. Won’t ya?”, Callum sounded desperate and aching.

Ben thought about lying with Callum. Thought about holding and being held by him. About being pressed so close and seamlessly to the other man it would become unclear where one of them ended and the other began; twisted and twined and fused together. He thought about soft kisses pressed into hairlines, fingers drawing absently across flushed skin, shared laughter and smiles and tears.

He thought about a possible future. Abstract and unlikely and distant as it was, it was still possible. Callum hadn’t gotten married. And Callum wanted him to live.

“Please”, a choked sob, a despairing plea.

Alright Callum. Fine. He’ll stay.

-

Apparently all it took was a jilted wedding culminating in a near-fatal shooting and a few weeks to get Callum standing in front of him, as trolleyed as Phil Mitchell circa 2016, in _the_ Phil Mitchell’s kitchen. 

It had felt very anti-climatic really, all things considered. Certainly not the circumstances under which he’d thought their second proper kiss would occur.

Not that he’d thought about it. Fuck off.

Callum still looked sexy in spite of his inebriated state of course. The undertaker suit really did hug every curve. What a bastard.

Callum was getting all mouthy; which Ben normally quite enjoyed. But Ben wasn’t enjoying the subject matter; Callum was blaming himself and _Ben_ , for fuck’s sake, for things that didn’t need blaming on anyone. 

It was just life. Things happened. It’s shit. Move on.

It was soft-boy shit mostly and the reasons behind the outburst were as obvious as a shag in a whorehouse. He felt guilty about hurting Whitney, was jealous that she’d moved on and couldn’t accept that he didn’t need to blame his sexuality on anything, or _anyone_ , because there wasn’t a thing fucking wrong with it.

Ben half-heartedly attempted to retaliate and talk some sense into the other man. Only half-hearted because Callum was three sheets to the wind and was clearly stubbornly set in his baffling notions in the way only a drunk man could be.

But then Callum suggested that he’d disregarded the things that had happened between them. And Ben became indignant.

“I’m the one who asked you for a drink”, he muttered, incredulously. “And you, well, you ‘aven’t taken me up on it”

He’d contemplated that fact a fair bit more than he’d ever acknowledge.

He didn’t hold it against Callum. He’d accepted the offer when Ben was in a hospital bed following a near-death experience at Callum’s own banjaxed wedding do, so anyone could see how he could’ve felt obliged to do so out of politeness rather than any intention to actually follow through.

And it had become clear to Ben that he’d merely been a gateway for Callum, not dating material. 

Callum had obviously been attracted to different men before Ben; he was twenty eight years old, _gay_ and, following an intense evening in a children’s park Ben could confirm, far from innocent. However, Ben figured he’d been the first man that had actually recognised Callum’s attraction to them. He had also coincidently and, to put it lightly, reciprocated his feelings. As was Ben’s nature, he wouldn’t let Callum forget or avoid what he knew about the other man, and therefore Callum was forced to, for the first time, admit to and confront his sexuality.

Ben was under no illusion that he’d awakened any feeling or nature within Callum. He was simply a cocky prick who liked getting what he wanted and didn’t know when to stop pushing. And that tendency had circumstantially led to Callum coming out.

Callum hadn’t chosen Ben over anyone and hadn’t been irrevocably moved by emotion or self acceptance to willingly come out; that had been forced upon him by a psycho with a gun, mitigating circumstances and the gossip mongers of Walford, who knew no bounds.

This wasn’t some coming of age, sentimental romance story; it was a series of incidental fuck ups and disastrous events that had had one positive outcome among a hundred miserable ramifications.

Which was fine. Callum had needed someone difficult and bullheaded to coax him, and Ben had accepted that he was that person. And no more.

But he wouldn’t stand there and listen to Callum claim that Ben hadn’t given a fuck, _didn’t_ give a fuck. Because that was evidently Callum’s position, not his.

Callum simply dismissed this reality, predictably suggesting that Ben was under-complicating matters. 

But Ben was an uncomplicated guy. Alright no he wasn’t. Still, it all seemed rather simple from where he was standing, with a front-row view of the shit-show. He was only being honest.

Then Callum stepped forward and took Ben’s face in his gloriously, sexy hands and kissed him soundly.

Ben was surprised; Callum was getting into a dangerous habit in that regard. 

He faltered briefly, before he began kissing back in earnest. Callum caught Ben’s lower lip between his own, nipping until Ben eagerly parted his lips. Ben then lapped ardently into Callum’s mouth.

He slid his fingers into Callum’s hair while the other man held his head, his nails gently scratching at the nape of Ben’s neck. They swayed further into one another, but Ben wanted him closer, didn’t think Callum could ever be close enough for his liking.

It was passionate, exhilarating and over far too quickly.

They pulled apart and Ben watched his face intently. He observed the long eyelashes framing his eyes, the laugh lines spread from his eyes and across his forehead, the way his cheekbones were just visible and high in his face. He catalogued the sadness and pain and doubt that was obvious in every flicker and twitch and squint; Callum never had put much effort into hiding his emotions, not like Ben. 

Ben short circuited for a second when Callum leant towards him again. 

Yes, more. Why hadn’t they been doing this sooner?

Then Ben’s brain caught up with his libido.

Oh fuck yeah. Those one million reasons why this was a _very bad_ idea.

Ben tilted his head out of Callum’s reach with great difficulty and hardship. He gently pressed his palms against Callum’s forearms, holding the other man at a distance when all he wanted to do was drag him near.

Callum took a half step away from him and Ben felt bereft.

“Why not?”

Callum’s blue eyes were boring into him as though he was a particularly cute puppy and Ben had just kicked him between two goalposts.

For fuck’s sake. Why did Ben have to be such a paragon of virtue? Such was his cross to bare he supposed.

“Because you’re boozed up, Callum. And from where I’m standing the only time you can handle being with me is when you’ve had a skinful”

That was as close to the truth as Ben could let himself articulate sober. He wanted Callum so badly, and that was exactly why he couldn’t let them do _that_. If Callum needed intoxicants to be with him then Callum didn't want him the way Ben wanted Callum. And Ben couldn’t be Callum’s gateway anymore, couldn’t be the person Callum figured his attraction out with, his trial run.

It hurt too much. He needed more.

“What? You don’t want me now?”, Callum stuttered. 

Ben not wanting him? Was he taking the piss?

And here Ben thought Callum could read him like an issue of the Walford Gazette. The beer goggles really must’ve been screwed on tight.

Despite his incredulity, Ben felt his shuttering defences halting. It was Callum for God’s sake. Callum who was lovely and caring and selfless. Who was feeling awful. And who Ben had just made feel even worse.

Who would’ve ever seen that one coming? 

“Come ‘ere”, Ben murmured, holding out an arm.

Ben wrapped the outstretched limb around Callum’s shoulders and pulled him close. Callum buried his face in the crook of Ben’s neck and Ben stretched slightly to settle his chin on Callum’s shoulder.

He told Callum and himself that it was all going to work out and hoped he wasn’t lying.

They held each other’s pieces together for a little while longer.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for taking the time to read!
> 
> Was this mostly a hand job scene dragged out to near death? Yes.
> 
> So what was the meaning of all this and why the random time frame I hear no one ask. Well, for me, the first meeting to the kitchen kiss is a period where Callum is discovering and realising his sexuality and Ben is sure in his attraction to Callum but could be unsure of it’s true reciprocation due to Callum’s inconsistency and his apparent devotion to Whitney at the time. Beyond this point we see Callum accept his sexuality and actively seek a relationship with Ben and subsequently Ben unable to deny that his feelings are reciprocated any longer. Therfore at that point I feel a new stage of their respective characterisations and relationship begins. This is all personal interpretation of course, I don’t claim to know the minds of the writers! The scenes I’ve written around are major scenes in the development of their arc but also scenes I think speak to attraction. The one scene I’m unsure of truly fitting this narrative, and which I therefore had reservations about including, is the shooting scene. In my own narration attraction is definitely not a focus, however I attempted to explore Ben’s thoughts as much as possible and feel the scene does add something so decided to include it here even though it may seem out of place. I hope that it isn’t too random and distracting!
> 
> Kudos, comments and constructive criticisms are welcome and encouraged!
> 
> Part two pending..


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